Two Little Boys
by Rennuian
Summary: A 3/4 story, telling of the first meeting between the two. A young mercenary meets and rescues a friend, unknowingly starting a bond that will last through time. Reference to non-consensual sex. In the second part, Quatre pays back the favor of being resc
1. Default Chapter Title

> The song 'Two Little Boys' is sung by Rolf Harris and is copyrighted to him. Standard disclaimers apply.
> 
> Two Little Boys  
Part I  
by NekosouChan
> 
> _Two little boys had two little toys  
Each had a wooden horse  
Gaily they played each summer's day   
Warriors both of course  
One little chap then had a mishap  
He broke off his horse's head  
Went for his toy then cried with joy  
As his young playmate said  
Did you think I would leave you crying?  
When there's room on my horse for two  
Climb up here, Jack, and don't be crying  
I can go just as fast with two  
When we grow up we'll both be soldiers  
And our horses will not be toys  
And I wonder if we'll remember   
When we were two little boys_
> 
> The small little blond youth stared around in fascination. He'd never been to a circus before and the Bright Stars Circus was a whole new world awaiting his discovery. He peered around eagerly, absorbing every facet of the sensations that assaulted him from everywhere.
> 
> "Master Quatre! Matte!"
> 
> He didn't bother to wait for stupid slow servants. There were too many things to divert his attention and make him forget about his father. He dashed through the bodies clustering around him, heedless about the poor servants trying to catch up with him. All the better if they get lost, he decided with a slight sneer.
> 
> "Master Quatre! Chotto matte!" the servant shouted in alarm. Barely had his back turned when the little child escaped his grasp and melted into the crowds. He glanced at his companion who searched around frantically. 
> 
> "Don't just stand there! Look for him!" his companion snapped. 
> 
> "Hai!"
> 
> ***
> 
> "Veritechs! Fly one today! 10 tokens per child." [1]
> 
> The blond hair-tousled boy looked up to read the brightly colored sign. He could read it and understood it well enough, something which would probably surprise his father very much, he thought rather bitterly. All his teachers ever say was that he was a sweet child but hardly ever applied himself to studies. If only they really knew....
> 
> Quatre dug in his pockets and withdrew the small round tokens the servant had handed him before he had run away. He carefully counted out ten pieces and counted it again to be sure. Standing guard over the machines was a very large dark-skinned man with a sneer on his face as he watched the young child amble over.
> 
> Steeling his instinctive flinch from the man that his heart insisted was _bad_, Quatre pointed at the robots then held out the tokens. The man sneered again and he caught a thread of his thought, "_Easy game!"_
> 
> "Ya can't go in, sonny," the man said casually. "Ya need an adult or 'nother guy to follow ya in."
> 
> Quatre glanced suspiciously at the man. He didn't trust him at all, not when every hair on him was raised in protest. But he did so want to play the Veritechs. He stared at the tokens in his hand, trying to make a decision.
> 
> "If ya give me twenty more of them shinies, I'll go in with ya," the man continued, a strange gleam in his eyes. Quatre shook his head. There was no way at all he'd go in with the man. He looked around the crowds in desperation, hoping that maybe he could ask someone else to follow him in.
> 
> His eyes alighted on another boy, just slightly taller than him with side-swept brown hair and shining green eyes, standing beside an ice-cream stall. He wore on old black tanktop and an equally old worn pair of trousers. His features were all the more eye-catching for it presented a vast contrast to the merry laughter and smiles around him. Sullen eyes scanned the crowd while an impassive mask warded off people and kept a small radius of cleared area around him. Perfect! He ran over to him and smiled.
> 
> "Hello," he greeted shyly. The boy barely spared him a glance. Unperturbed by the brush-off, Quatre continued on. "I want to play the Veritechs," and he pointed, "But I need someone to follow me in or the man won't let me play."
> 
> "Go away," the boy said softly. Quatre turned bewildered eyes on him.
> 
> "Are you busy or something? You're just standing here," he told, with all the straight-forwardness of a child. "Come and play with me, please."
> 
> The other boy finally turned to gaze at him. "I don't want to play. Leave me alone."
> 
> He may only be a child still, and a lonely at that, but Quatre knew when a silent plead for help and friendship was issued. The boy did want to play too, but he was holding back for fear of something. "My name is Quatre," the blond boy held out his hand. "I won't hurt you. Please, come and play with me."
> 
> The boy stared at the hand as if it was both lifeline and vicious cobra. Hesitation rocked him and it was plain he did not know what to do. "I..I can't. I'm suppose to stay here. I have to stay here."
> 
> "Just for awhile? Please? One game can hardly hurt much," Quatre wheedled, opening his eyes wide and letting his _need_ show in it. The boy reached out and almost touched him when he drew back again. 
> 
> "But...I can't pay for it...I don't have any tokens..."
> 
> Quatre took that as a yes. He grabbed the other boy's hand and smiled. "I got more than enough! Come one, let's play!"
> 
> And so he dragged the other boy back to the Veritechs, where the sour looking man glared at them. Quatre held out the tokens again but the man shook his head.
> 
> "Thirty more fer the other kiddo," he said flatly. Then a malicious grin crossed his face. "But if ya kick him away and let me follow ya, ya only have ta pay fifteen shinies."
> 
> A frown crossed the small Arabian child's face. "I'm going in with him, not you." Quatre dug in his pockets for more tokens, very sure he'd have more than enough. But a slim strong hand stopped him and he turned to see the other boy glare at the man.
> 
> "Twenty tokens for the both of us, no more no less," he said grimly. "And you stay away from us."
> 
> The man grew angry and frowned until furrow-like hills creased his forehead. "None of yer business, kiddo," he snarled. The boy reacted so fast that it took Quatre one long moment to realize that he had somehow drawn a small gun from somewhere and was aiming it right at the man, who shook visibly and trembled. But the boy had stepped much closer to the man so no one else in the crowds around them realized that something was amissed.
> 
> "Twenty tokens," the boy repeated. 
> 
> "Twenty tokens!" the man agreed, shaking his head up and down rapidly.
> 
> "And you leave us alone."
> 
> "I ain't gonna touch no hair on you!" the man agreed, sweating heavily. The boy backed away slightly but still trained the gun on him. Quatre stepped forward and carefully placed the tokens in the man's pouch, since he did not seem capable of moving his hands from his crotch to accept the tokens. Interestingly enough, that was exactly where the boy was pointing the gun....
> 
> "Come on, let's go," the boy hid the gun in one smooth motion. Quatre nodded and apologized once to the cowering man before going after the boy who waited patiently some steps away.
> 
> "This one!" Quatre cried, pulling the unresisting boy to a Veritech painted white with yellow and black highlights and had a grinning skull painted on the side. He started going into the pilot's seat when he paused and looked back.
> 
> "Gunner or pilot?" he asked him. The boy's gaze went from the pilot's seat to the gunner's, obviously stuck between choices. 
> 
> "Gunner," the boy replied finally and climbed into the co-pilot's seat. Quatre nodded and resumed his climb into the pilot's seat. Inside, on the old leather seat, a white and blue helmet rested with wires trailing from it into various ports inside the cockpit.
> 
> "Ready?" he asked as he squirmed around his seat to face the back. The other boy nodded and buckled himself in then slipped on a gray and black helmet.
> 
> Quatre hurriedly repeated the same process himself then pressed the button labeled with 'Start'. When he pulled the visor down a wash of white and blacks spots danced before his eyes before suddenly solidifying into a scene of a hanger bay. The masterful application of virtual reality to games, Quatre smiled.
> 
> He twisted back again and saw a grown-up version of the boy giving him the thumbs up sign. Same green eyes but seeming older and wiser, a more mature face without the baby fat that it had now and the same hairstyle he found fascinating was retained. He was dressed in a black with red striped flightsuit and looking back down on himself, he saw that he was clad in a white with golden highlights flightsuit.
> 
> Quatre grinned and turned back to his controls. Let the game begin! he exulted.
> 
> ***
> 
> "We did it!" he laughed in delight. Together they had scored the highest points in the game and downed the biggest number of enemy crafts. He slung a friendly arm over the boy's shoulders and grinned at him. The boy smiled back slightly, a vast improvement from when they first met and he barely twitched a facial muscle.
> 
> "Come, I'm hungry!" Quatre dragged him away from the Veritechs and to a stall that sold hot pieces of chicken on a stick. The boy shyly accepted the treat of one stick and munched on it with evident enjoyment.
> 
> "Have you ridden a ferris wheel before?" Quatre asked once they had finished licking their fingers clean of crumbs and taste. The other boy, whose name he yet did not know and had not yet been volunteered, shook his head in the negative. Quatre grinned again and grabbed the boy's arm. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Two long hours later, two tired but very happy boys collapsed down with twin sighs of relief. Two whole hours of rides and snacks bore a deadly toll of laughter and fun and tokens. Quatre had started out feeling very heavy with the weight of all the tokens but now that it was all spent, he felt very much lighter, not to mention happier.
> 
> "Look! A shooting star!" 
> 
> The other boy glanced up and watched it dance across the sky in a swift stately measure. "Make a wish and it'll come true," Quatre urged him with a smile. The other boy turned his head to set unreadable eyes on him.
> 
> "Will it really come true? Honto?"
> 
> "It will, if it's made with your heart," Quatre promised. The boy turned back to the star then closed his eyes, evidently making his wish. Quatre would love to make a wish too, but he didn't want the star to be too burdened and possibly forget the other boy's wish. Not when it seemed that he needed it much more.
> 
> So he waited politely for him to finish and when the boy raised his head again, he asked him a question. "Do you live around here?"
> 
> "No," he shook his head, staring rather wistfully at the bright and lively circus ground below them, an impressive view from the top of the hill where they were. "I live with..." he hesitated and closed his eyes.
> 
> "With?" Quatre prompted gently.
> 
> "Some other people," he continued hesitantly. "We travel a lot."
> 
> "Oh! You mean like gypsies?" the small blond boy exclaimed.
> 
> "Something like that," he hedged. Quatre smiled sadly and lay back down to look at the stars.
> 
> "That must be nice," he murmured. "To be with people who love you. My father hates me."
> 
> "No," the boy said forcefully. "Don't think that. You are his son. He loves you!" The brown-haired youth shook his head wearily. "I don't have any father. The ones I live with don't love me."
> 
> It was by far the longest piece of conversation he had said so far and now he lapsed into silence. Quatre didn't know how to respond to that and kept quiet as well. He enjoyed being able to simply sit there with him as a companion and friend.
> 
> _"Nanashi!"_ the voice that snarled that was full of anger and violence. Quatre spun around in surprise, absently noting his friend flinching back from the harsh tones.
> 
> "You were not at your guardpost!" a tall man with a scar disfiguring his face stomped into view. Behind the man was a shorter but no less uglier man who seemed to have an evil sneer permanently displayed. "You have some things to answer for, Nanashi."
> 
> _Nanashi? No name?_ Was that the boy's name? He couldn't have been born with that, Quatre thought, aghast. No parents would ever be that cruel to name their child so!
> 
> "Nanashi," the man snarled again. "Come here at once! Who is he?"
> 
> Quatre realized the menacing man was pointing at him. His friend, Nanashi had slowly stepped out closer to the man, his attitude and slouch somehow reminding the Arabian child of a man walking reluctantly to his death.
> 
> "Well?" the man was asking impatiently when no answer was forthcoming.
> 
> "He is a friend," Nanashi replied carefully. "A person of no consequences."
> 
> "Wait, he looks familiar," the man suddenly reached out and pulled Quatre closer. Quatre tried to breathe through the chokehold on his collar and the man's breath that smelt heavily of alcohol and something that was just plain smelly. Behind him the shorter man was chuckling in delight.
> 
> "Don't I know you, little brat?" the man scrutinized him closely. Quatre's heart beat with fear.
> 
> "Leave him alone, Rhiyo," Nanashi said uncaringly with a shrug. Quatre turned shocked eyes at him. "He's useless. I'm going back to the base."
> 
> Rhiyo moved as if he was going to release the youth but suddenly tightened his grip. "Why, Nanashi," he practically purred. "Since this little _morsel_ is of no consequence, no one will miss him, right? I'm feeling rather lonely tonight, little one. And I'm sure Kitsu is feeling lonesome too."
> 
> Rhiyo rubbed his cheek against Quatre's. Quatre froze, a feeling of dread and fear forming in his stomach. _No, No, No, No, No, No_, the boy thought, frozen. A large, rough hand carressed him from behind; Kitsu had crept up behind him and was touching him now.
> 
> "Be a good little boy and I'll give you a toy to play with," Rhiyo laughed lowly. "Or would you prefer some sweet syrup? I and Kitsu got both."
> 
> Behind Rhiyo, Nanashi was stock-still. He knew this scene all too well, having being an unwilling participant all too often. _Run away, hide, while he's forgotten about you!_ a part of him whispered. But yet another part protested loudly. He couldn't let the same thing happen to Quatre, the sweet golden haired boy who made him laugh for the first time in years. He didn't want to see his cheerful face in the grimace it was in now, the tears that streaked his cheek and the wide eyes that no longer reflected joy and warmth.
> 
> "Get away!" Quatre finally gasped, pushing away Rhiyo's groping hands. "Leave me alone!" And he struggled in the bigger man's grasp. One of his flailing limbs struck Rhiyo squarely on his cheek, causing the man to drop Quatre in surprise. The Arabian youth fell to the ground heavily and gasped in shock. Kitsu growled menacingly and held him so tightly he couldn't squirm anymore.
> 
> "Why you little scamp!" Rhiyo snarled darkly. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson you won't forget!"
> 
> "No!" Nanashi cried, dashing forward. Rhiyo feinted towards Quatre but turned and captured Nanashi as the other boy moved to free the golden-haired boy.
> 
> "Gotcha!" Rhiyo grinned. He held Nanashi tightly, with a grip so skillful and tight that Quatre realized, with a sickening feeling, that he and Nanashi had been manipulated into a trap. Rhiyo could have made sure he hadn't fought free in the first place.
> 
> "Always wanted to get my hands on you," Rhiyo remarked to Nanashi. "But for some damned reason you keep getting away. Not tonight, however! You're mine tonight." His chuckle sent a deep dread down Quatre's spine. Nanashi had froze, not moving at all in his captor's grasp. If he hadn't known better, Nanashi might as well have been just a remarkably life-like doll in Rhiyo's hands.
> 
> "But first, Kitsu will have his fun with your nice little friend here. He's been working so hard lately, this is just the thing he needs," Rhiyo laughed, running his tongue slowly over Nanashi's face. Nanashi's eyes had become pools of glass again, like when they had first met. Dead, uncaring, detached, empty eyes. 
> 
> Kitsu pushed him to the ground roughly. Quatre tried to break free again but still the short man held a greater strength against him. Large, rough hands tore his fine clothing apart. The faint touches of the cold night air touched him, as did the moist grasses and earth. Horror descended on the Arabian child.
> 
> Quatre fought twice as hard to break free. Kitsu, finally irritated by the child's futile attempts to break free, slapped him hard. Spots danced before his eyes as Quatre sobbed and his senses detached themselves. That _hurt_.
> 
> "_Tomodachi!_ _Help!_" Quatre pleaded, weeping as Kitsu lowered himself on him and began touching him in a way that _hurt_. This couldn't be happening, the small child wept.
> 
> ***
> 
> _"Tomodachi! Help!"_
> 
> The whispered plea broke through his paralysis where nothing else had broken through before. Quatre was in trouble. All because of him. If he had not accepted the boy's offer of a game and fun this would not have happened. He got Quatre into this, now he had to break him free.
> 
> Rhiyo was still holding him, but he had loosened his grip when he had shown no signs of resisting. Rhiyo was enjoying himself now, touching himself as he rubbed against him. He did not seem to mind that Nanashi wasn't moving at all.
> 
> Slowly, carefully, his free hand crept to the gun he kept hidden on his person. The gun had a history of its own, and had killed its own share of people. Rhiyo and Kitsu will be the next two notches on the gun barrel, he promised himself.
> 
> The ugly large man had lowered his head to nuzzle at his throat while his heavily callused hands moved to take his clothes off. Trowa fell limp, allowing Rhiyo to do as he wished while carefully, covertly, he brought the gun out and readied it. "That's it," Rhiyo murmured when Trowa's shirt was finally off.
> 
> "Yes, it is," Trowa agreed, brought the muzzle of the gun up and fired.
> 
> ***
> 
> "Are you all right?" Quatre whispered. He took a shuddering breath and wiped his eyes with his torn dirtied sleeve. Nanashi was on his knees, clothes torn, arms folded limply over his lap. The blond child crept closer to his friend and avoided going near the two dead bodies. He touched him gently. "Tomodachi?"
> 
> Nanashi did not reply. Quatre bit his lower lip and slowly, gently freed the gun from his grasp. He placed the gun away and took Nanashi's cold hands in his. He clasped it tightly and rubbed it, trying to make it warm, and wished he could do something to snap his friend out of the state of shock he was in.
> 
> "Tomodachi, thank you," the Arabian boy said sincerely. "Thank you for saving my life."
> 
> "But I didn't," he whispered so softly that Quatre almost didn't catch it. Nanashi raised his head and once again the sight of the dead, empty eyes chilled Quatre. "I got you in trouble. I shouldn't have left my post."
> 
> Quatre scowled. "If the people who made you stand there were like them, then you had all the right to desert it."
> 
> Nanashi did not reply. The blond child shook his head and hesitantly moved closer. He brushed his lips over his friend's cheeks. "Thank you. Honto ni."
> 
> Nanashi wonderingly touched his cheek and stared at his friend. A small, glimmering tear grew and gathered at the corner of his eye, Quatre smiled and gently reached out to brush it away.
> 
> "Quatre-sama!!"
> 
> Two heads jerked up at the sound, one blond, one brown, the one moment of magic and trust destroyed. Quatre blinked and stood up. Coming up the hill were the two servants who had taken him to the fair earlier.
> 
> "No," Quatre cried, dismayed as he glared at them. "Never on time, always when I don't need them and not when I do."
> 
> Quatre quickly turned his pockets inside out, searching for something, anything that he might give to his friend as a token. Nanashi had slowly risen to his feet beside him and he was cleaning the gun with Kitsu's shirt.
> 
> "Quatre-sama!!"
> 
> His fingers closed around something small and smooth. Quatre brought it out and smiled to see the small blue stone flecked with shining quartz and streaks of silver and gold. The stone was a pendant, one of the few his cherished mother owned. 
> 
> "For you!" Quatre smiled and thrust the stone out at the other boy, who could only stare at it. The two servants were closer; their shouts were getting louder. Quatre took Nanashi's limp and cold hand, pried the hand open and gently closed the fingers over the stone. "Remember me, tomodachi."
> 
> "For... me?" Nanashi stared at the closed hand and brought it up to inspect the stone.
> 
> "Quatre-sama!" the servants had reached the hilltop and stared agape at the dead bodies lying there. They took in the blood and the torn clothes of the two boys standing there and finally the gun prominently displayed in the brown-haired boy's pants. One of them came forward and jerked the blond child back. "Stay away from him, Quatre-sama!"
> 
> Quatre was scowling at the servants and struggling to free himself from their grasp, but this time both the servants staunchly ignored his fists and kicks. Nanashi stared at them leaving and listened to Quatre's voice arguing with the servants over his disappearance, growing weaker as the distance increased.
> 
> "But it's not my fault you can't keep up with me!"
> 
> "You shouldn't have wandered away from us, Quatre-sama! Its dangerous!"
> 
> "I can take care of myself. Besides, you guys are soooo slow!"
> 
> His other hand crept to a pocket hidden on the inner side of his pants. A secret pocket, with a secret object he never let anyone see or touched. It was a shred of cloth, multi-colored and soft to the touch. Nanashi believed that it had been part of the wrappings that held him when he was a baby and had been separated from his parents. Though so small, the piece of cloth gave him courage and the strength to continue on. And suddenly, he wanted Quatre to have it.
> 
> "Quatre! Tomodachi!" He ran after them, as fast as his shorter legs could carry on after the servants' long-legged strides. They paused, Quatre now on the ground and walking instead of being hauled away on either one of the servants' backs.
> 
> "Tomodachi!" Quatre smiled back at him and waved. Nanashi ran up to him and pressed the cloth into the other child's hand. Quatre held it up and peered at it then looked back at him. "For me? I can't take this, tomodachi. It's very precious to you."
> 
> The blond child's eyes took on a strange faraway look. "And its all that remained of your mother, who loved you very much." Quatre blinked and shook his head. "I can't take this, tomodachi! It means too much to you."
> 
> "That's why I want you to have it." Nanashi stared steadily into Quatre's eyes and closed the other child's hands over the piece of cloth again. "Please."
> 
> Quatre nodded and impulsively hugged his friend. "Friends forever," he promised. And then the servants were tugging him away and Nanashi was left standing there, waving farewell, the stone pendant clutched tight in his fist.
> 
> [1] ^_^ Grew up watching Robotech and later read the novels.
> 
> Note: Any use of Japanese is thoroughly under doubt of proper usage. Be forewarned! Mwahahahah *choke*  
© 1999 Rennuian, [http://vidrio-negro.net/home][1]

   [1]: http://vidrio-negro.net/home



	2. Default Chapter Title

> The song 'Two Little Boys' is sung by Rolf Harris and is copyrighted to him. Standard disclaimers apply.
> 
> Two Little Boys  
Part II  
by NekosouChan
> 
> _Long years passed, war came so fast  
Bravely they marched away  
Cannon roared loud and in the mad crowd  
Wounded and dying he lay  
Up goes a shout, a horse dashes out  
Out from the ranks so blue  
He gallops away to where Joe lay  
Then came a voice he knew  
Did you think I would leave you dying  
When there's room on my horse for two  
Climb up here, Joe, we'll soon be flying  
I can go just as fast with two  
Did you say Joe all a tremble   
Perhaps it's the battle's noise  
But I think it's that I remember  
When we were two little boy_s
> 
> "Oyasumi!" Duo called out from the large sofa. Quatre allowed himself a brief smile as he left the living room with the sound of an ages old voice crooning a song, "The Last Unicorn" to accompany him.
> 
> "Good night, Duo!" the young Gundam pilot called back. "Good night, Heero!"
> 
> The dark haired Japanese pilot merely grunted and moved closer to Duo, the two leaning closely against each other to watch the old animation he had dug up from somewhere for Duo.
> 
> The Arabian pilot paced the silent halls of his mansion to his apartments. It was very late and most of the servants had retired to their own beds. Quatre paused outside Wufei's door and knocked on it.
> 
> "Who is it?" the familiar voice responded. Through the door that separated them Quatre clearly heard the _shiiink_ of his metal sword sliding into its sheath.
> 
> "Its me, Quatre."
> 
> "Come in," the Chinese boy invited from within. He turned the knob and eased the door open on silent hinges. The other boy was sitting on a chair as he wiped the sweat off with a towel.
> 
> "Is everything to your satisfaction?" Quatre asked, always the concerned host. Wufei nodded briskly, an act that sent his pontail swinging lightly.
> 
> "Hai," he said. "Everything is fine, Quatre. Thank you for letting us use your beautiful house."
> 
> "It's not a problem," he smiled in returned. "Enjoy your stay. If you need anything, just call, okay?"
> 
> "I will," the head nodded once more, but if he held true to his behavior, Quatre knew he would sooner die than admit any inadequency. Duo on the other hand, would not hesitate to call out for more pillows or blankets or even to send to the kitchen for sandwiches. He remembered, laughingly, when Duo had once complained that his room was too boring and asked to have the walls repainted black, white and gold. The room did not get repainted however. Rashid had seen no reason at all for redecoration and in his usual manner made Duo see his point of view. The fact that he was so much bigger than Duo helped a lot. 
> 
> "Oyasumi nasai," Quatre wished as he slipped back out.
> 
> "Maan on, Quatre," the Chinese boy replied. The Arabian left him and continued on his way. Trowa's quarters were next and he repeated the knock. There was silence from within. No one answered when he repeated the knock again. Had Trowa fallen asleep? Quatre wondered if he should disturb the Heavyarms pilot or not, then decided he should at least check on him. At the very least he would get to see him relaxed in slumber.
> 
> He carefully pushed the door opened, thankful that it wasn't locked. Not that it really mattered, since he had the keys to all the rooms in the mansion. The large room was only lit by the light of the full moon entering from the large windows to the north of the door.
> 
> Trowa didn't seem to be inside and he almost left before realizing there was a body in the large four-poster bed, a body neatly hidden by the shadows from the drapes. Quatre tiptoed closer and peered at the unmoving form.
> 
> It was Trowa all right. He smiled to himself as his hand, seemingly possessing a life of its own, reached out to smoothen the brown hair from his brow. The taller pilot murmured in his sleep and Quatre froze, fearing that he would be caught in the act. But thankfully Trowa only sighed and lapsed back into sleep.
> 
> He wished the green eyes would open, if only briefly, so that he could look in it once again. The beautiful eyes were an ocean he could and would gladly drown himself in. From the moment they had first met on that battlefield, he had felt himself drawn to the Heavyarms pilot. Drawn and snared by a trap he wasn't sure the hunter knew had been set and triggered.
> 
> Quatre knelt down beside the bed and observed Trowa's features. He reached out again to trace, feather-light, the line of his jaw and his cheeks. The taller youth suddenly broke into a smile, totally changing his face from the grim mask of a warrior to that of a younger, innocent youth. 
> 
> "Kawaii!" Quatre whispered to himself, convulsing in silent laughter. Trowa's eyes were moving rapidly under his lids; he was dreaming and it seemed to be a good dream, judging from the wide, dreamy grin. Strangely, he felt an inexplicable feeling of déjà vu. Why -
> 
> "Quatre..."
> 
> "!?!?" the Arabian youth blinked in surprise. Trowa was dreaming about him? He felt himself blush and smiled again. It must be a very interesting dream, he thought. How he wished he could peer into Trowa's thoughts and divine the dream! 
> 
> He caressed the taller pilot's face again before rising. He said the words he knew to be true in his heart but dared not yet say aloud. "Aishiteru, Trowa." Quatre gently tucked the blankets securely around the unmoving form then quietly slipped back out.
> 
> ***
> 
> When he heard the door swing shut, he opened his eyes and wonderingly touched his cheek. _Why?_ Trowa wondered. He had heard Quatre's knock but since he didn't feel up to meeting him, he had pretended to be fast asleep. 
> 
> Then when Quatre had entered and touched him fleetingly, ever so gently, it surprised him and he moved. He covered for that swiftly and sighed in relief when Quatre fell for the ruse. Where his touch lingered, Trowa felt a strange warmness and the swell of an emotion he couldn't identify but it made him feel strangely safe and comforted. 
> 
> He was fairly confident that he kept his heart and breathing under control, but somehow he had forgotten about his tongue. From out of the blue he found himself whispering the Arabian pilot's name and through carefully slitted eyes he saw the youth blinked in surprise then smile warmly. 
> 
> Again the smaller pilot touched him and he barely controlled his shock when the whispered "Aishiteru, Trowa," reached his ears. Control nearly escaped him and he felt so relieved when the door shut, signaling Quatre's exit.
> 
> _Why?_ He wondered again. Why did Quatre touch him so? Why did the touch evoke such emotions? Why did the emotions exist? He had long thought himself hardened and unable to feel thanks to the barrier erected over his heart and the blunting by his stint in the mercenary trade and war. 
> 
> Trowa was faintly amused and greatly afraid to discover he was still human after all.
> 
> ***
> 
> "This is not a good day," Duo observed sarcastically. He spun his energy scythe expertly and with a neat pirouette even Trowa would appreciate, he beheaded a mobile suit. The sudden flare of its explosion didn't even faze him as he spun to intercept another enemy and soon that one went to the Grim Reaper too. 
> 
> "Just what is your definition of a good day, Maxwell?" Wufei asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The Chinese pilot was hardpressed to keep himself free from being surrounded by attacking mobile suits.
> 
> "Ummm," Duo considered as he absently exploded an Oz supply warehouse. "A day where I get to peek on the ten most prettiest girls in the world having a shower and blow all schools up to kingdom come?"
> 
> "Baka!" Wufei snapped. "Be serious, Duo!"
> 
> "Yes, daddy Wu. Of course, daddy Wu," the American mocked. 
> 
> "Maxwell!" irritation fairly bled through the other pilot's voice.
> 
> "That's my name, don't wear it out!" Duo replied back flippantly, laughing all the while. Then suddenly a thought struck him. Deathscythe spun around the battlefield, searching, scanning. "Wufei, where's Quatre?" Amidst the smoking ruins of stone and metal, there was no sign of Sandrock, nor of Heavyarms, Quatre's partner.
> 
> ***
> 
> _Pain._
> 
> _Throbbing pain._
> 
> _Shimatta, it hurts._
> 
> Trowa stifled a moan of agony as he worked his eyes open through matted hair and the sticky dried blood that caked his face. Dim, red emergency lights lit the interior of his Gundam, Heavyarms. He tried to recollect his thoughts and move his leaden limbs.
> 
> They had been on a mission, the four of them. Duo, Wufei, Quatre and him. They were suppose to create a diversion while Heero infiltrated the main Oz base and stole important data. While Duo and Wufei paired off he and Quatre worked together. 
> 
> He remembered firing at some Oz warehouses that had been stockpiled with ammunitions while Quatre kept the enemy off their backs. The resulting explosion had scoured the battlefield of any living beings and heavily damaged any mecha that happened to be near it.
> 
> Then ... Trowa frowned as he worked his way to a more comfortable position. He suddenly realized that his Gundam was lying on its back and reached an aching hand out to check Heavyarm's systems. He had to get back to the battle. He belatedly wondered how long he had been out and checked himself for injuries. 
> 
> A heavily bleeding cut just above his right eye. His chest hurt and there was a tightness and shortness of breath. Probably broken or cracked ribs. And somehow, in the padded harnesses and seat, he had managed to get his left arm broken. Aside from those, he had numerous bruises and cuts all over. Well, at least he wasn't bleeding internally, he thought.
> 
> Light flooded the cockpit and the Gundam came back to life as feedback from the systems reported in. The armor plating protecting his back was heavily damaged, as was the plating on the right leg. The other areas could still stand some heavy battering. The generator efficiency was down 40%, but that was expected due to the damage taken. Thrusters were at 90% efficiency. The double heat sinks were operating at 80% efficiency, more than adequate to tide him through. 
> 
> He checked the weapons stats. Of the micro missiles, he had 36 left. Homing missiles were left only 10. He had exhausted the LRMs fitted to the legs early in the fight. His left arm's double gatling gun was jammed. He frowned. At least the right was still operational. Vulcan, machine cannons and gatling cannons were all operational. He could still put up a fight.[1] 
> 
> Ah, now he remembered. He had been separated from Quatre when the force of the explosion had thrown them apart. He had been swiftly surrounded, but that was not something that worried him for he had always fought his way free. He hadn't counted on a power-suited soldier planting a satchel charge however[2]. That was what had knocked him out, that and the hits Heavyarms received when he was downed.
> 
> This all happened in the space of a few seconds and in battle a few seconds are all that's needed to bring a difference. When Trowa realized he was still in the midst of the battle, he ignored his wounds and flicked the screens to battle mode. 
> 
> Heavyarms came to life and struggled to its feet. A discrete glance at the chronometer showed that he had been out for less than five minutes. Why hadn't he been killed in the interim? They probably wanted a live captive. Well, that was a big mistake. One they'd regret deeply.
> 
> Trowa opened fired and rained death on the enemy.
> 
> ***
> 
> "Hell Four? Hell Four! Do you read me?"
> 
> Static from the open comm frequency answered him. Duo cursed and cleaved the legs out from an enemy mobile suit. Beside him Wufei bathed an enemy in fire and reduced it to a melted scrap. Geez, what kind of cheap materials were they using to built mobile suits these days? the American wondered.
> 
> "Hell Three! Do you read me? Hell Three, answer dammit!"
> 
> Duo frowned and switched to a closed and secured channel. "Wufei, neither of them are answering."
> 
> "They're still on my radar, Maxwell," the Chinese pilot replied. "Both are moving, so I would venture a guess that they are both alive and fighting. It is possible that their communication system was damaged or that Oz is jamming out all frequencies."
> 
> "Well, I hope they're having a nicer time than us," Duo muttered, ducking a hail of missiles and returning fire of his own. He gasped as several homing missiles rocked Deathscythe. "Dammit, how long does Heero take to simply steal some info?" 
> 
> *** 
> 
> "There's the signal," Wufei reported. "Pulling out now."
> 
> "Goodbye, fools," Duo laughed softly. "Till you meet Death again one day!"
> 
> A blast of smoke provided the screen for their escape. It left their enemies cursing and howling for their deaths. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Quatre sliced an enemy mobile suit in half and noticed the signal flares in the sky. It was the signal that Heero had obtained the data and had made his escape. It was time for them to pull out too. But where was Trowa?
> 
> Quatre scanned the battlefield. They had been separated shortly by the force of the explosion of the ammunition warehouse but then they had been reunited for a moment. Then in the heat of the battle he had lost him again.
> 
> The Arabian pilot flicked the comm channel open. "Hell Three? Do you read me? Hell Three? Trowa! Trowa!"
> 
> There was no reply. There was only the hiss of static and he irritably switched it to standby mode. "Trowa, where are you?" he whispered, a dread and cold feeling sinking in his stomach.
> 
> Trowa was, at that moment, in trouble. One disadvantage to his Gundam was that when he ran out of missiles and bullets, he was a liability. Heavyarms didn't even have the army knife it once had. Well, he wasn't that defenseless. There was still the self-destruct option open.
> 
> Heavyarms took another cautious step back. In a wide semi-circle around it were the enemy mobile suits. Above in the sky were the air support from another base that had arrive belatedly but was in time to help capture this one stray Gundam. 
> 
> Trowa had noticed the flares lighting up the sky. A slight sneer of a smile appeared fleetingly. How ironic. The flares were to signal their escape, the fire of hope as it was. Now, it was now merely the signal of a larger and greater flare, the explosion of a Gundam.
> 
> _Goodbye, Quatre,_ he thought, feeling an inexplicable sadness and regret welling up in his heart. _I'm sorry I can't return your love. I was never worthy of it, even when we were children and your kindness touched me._ The Oz military were ordering his surrender and he dismissed it without another thought.
> 
> Trowa carefully brought out the small blue stone that was his talisman. It was another coincidence, that he would once again meet the boy who gave him hope in those dark times again years later, and as partners no less. He wondered if Quatre remembered that incident. He had decided long ago that it didn't matter if he didn't, it was enough that he did.
> 
> "Sayonara, Quatre." Trowa clenched the stone with what strength his broken arm could muster and with his other he initiated the commands that would make Heavyarms the brightest fireworks display yet. Countdown T-30 seconds.
> 
> "Surrender, rebel!"
> 
> Trowa considered it and shrugged. He opened that hatch and stepped out, the blue stone still held in his hand. It was interesting that they thought him a formidable enemy. There was enough firearms trained on him to equal the mass destruction two exploding Gundams could make. He didn't know whether to feel honored or to laugh.
> 
> "Put your hands up in the air!"
> 
> "My left arm is broken, so please excuse me if I don't," he replied in monotone, while lifting his right arm. T-20 seconds.
> 
> "No sudden movements, rebel!" The mobile suits inched closer. He watched expressionlessly as two moved forward to get restrain Heavyarms and the rest formed a closer ring around him. Idiots, did they never learn after Heero's flamboyant example? All the more company when he died then. T-17 seconds. 
> 
> A sudden massive explosion shook the ground violently and created veiling clouds of smoke and dust. He coughed and tried to catch his balance with his good hand but missed and jarred his broken arm. He hissed in pain and levered himself up. What was going on?
> 
> "Trowa!" a sweet and familiar voice boomed out from among the smoke.
> 
> Trowa couldn't believe his ears. Quatre? What was he doing here? He was supposed to have pulled out minutes ago! The stupid idiot! He was going to get the both of them killed. The dust was choking him and he coughed heavily. The pain in his chest increased and he duly noted the flecks of blood that covered his hand when he brought it away from his mouth.
> 
> "I've set my Gundam to self-destruct. Get away," he shouted, hoping that among the pandemonium Quatre could pick his voice up. T-5 seconds. 
> 
> "Not without you, koi," came the grim reply. The explosion must have deafened him. Did he hear what he thought he heard? A gigantic hand emerged from the clouds of dust and it picked him up as gently as a mother cradles a newborn child. Another explosion rocked them and shook him hard enough to make sharp, keen agony splitting through his chest.
> 
> Dimly, he could feel Sandrock's other hand fitting over the one he was lying on, to cover him completely and protect him. As consciousness bled away, Trowa wondered if he would live to confirm what he thought Quatre had called him. He wondered if Quatre would remember his rescuing the blond child that long ago day and the favor repaid today when he rescued him instead. Then the shuddering explosion of his Gundam shook the very air and sent Sandrock cart-wheeling over in the sky, and not incidentally him into blessed darkness.
> 
> ***
> 
> "He's awake and lucid."
> 
> The blond head jerked up in surprise, suddenly jolted out of his thoughts. "Thank you, Doctor Kusanagi," he bowed his head. The doctor smiled slightly and merely nodded.
> 
> "It's my job, Winner-san. Do not exhaust him too much however, he still needs some recovering to do."
> 
> "Hai, Doctor Kusanagi. I won't." Quatre waited for the doctor to clear the entry and absently rolled the blue stone he had found in Trowa's hand in his fingers. As he did, his thoughts again went back to that day's events.
> 
> He had barely cleared the surrounding enemies when Heavyarms had exploded. The shock wave had thrown him off for a moment but he did his utmost to make sure Trowa was safe and unhurt. While he detested not stopping to make a check on Trowa, he was forced to because Oz was still sending out probes after them and it was imperative that they got to safety first.
> 
> The minute he had reached the safety of his estates he had ordered a first class emergency. The fully equipped medical personnel in his staff had arrived quickly and carted a seriously wounded Trowa away. But not before he had the chance to assure his own afraid and wounded heart that Trowa was indeed still alive and breathing. And not before he found and gently pried free the stone in his left hand.
> 
> The blue stone evoked faint memories, a strange sense of déjà vu. Quatre closed his eyes and tried to open himself to his feelings. He owned this stone once, before, that much he was certain. Had he lost it or gave it away? It gave him a sense of peace, of wellbeing, and the presence of something familiar and much loved. Part of it he identified, blushing, as Trowa. Another smaller part but no less powerful puzzled him. 
> 
> "Okaasan! Can I have an ice cream please?" the voice of a young child floated to his ears, then the laughing reply of an older woman, presumably the mother. Mother... that's right, he thought with sudden certainty. That was his mother's presence he sensed!
> 
> "Well, aren't you going in?" Doctor Kusanagi's words broke in again. 
> 
> "Uh, yes, thank you." Quatre gripped the stone tightly and entered the room. The soft beeping and thrum of the electronic equipment greeted him, as did the sight of the long, lanky body swabbed in bandages and tubes and sensors.
> 
> "Trowa," he whispered, feeling indecisive and nervous all of a sudden. The Heavyarms pilot looked so pale and deathly still lying there as he did. Like a porcelain mannequin host bereft of its soul. Or perhaps a puppet whose strings had been cut.
> 
> Quatre carefully made his way among the wires and medical monitors and sank down beside Trowa. Quiet though he was, something had alerted Trowa and eyelids fluttered open to unveil the dull orbs beneath. Doctor Kusanagi had said he had been drugged to blunt the pain.
> 
> Trowa frowned and struggled weakly to say something. Quatre quickly placed a silencing finger on the other's lips, shaking his head. "Don't talk, Trowa. Its okay."
> 
> Trowa sighed and slumped back against the propping pillows. Quatre glanced at the stone in his hand then smiled. He gently pried open Trowa's right hand, placed the stone in it then clasped the fingers over it.
> 
> Trowa's eyes widened as he shifted his gaze from the blue stone to Quatre then back again. A small crystalline tear made its appearance, and still smiling that gentle wistful smile Quatre reached out to brush it away. He leaned closer and kissed Trowa on his cheek. 
> 
> The taller pilot flushed crimson, an act that made Quatre's smile grow wider. "Get better for me, Trowa," the Arabian pilot whispered. "Forever friends, and more," he added.
> 
> ***
> 
> Hours later, when Duo and Wufei came to visit, they wondered why the normally withdrawn and solemn Heavyarms pilot smiled serenely as he slept on. 
> 
> _Did you think I could leave you dying  
There's room on my horse for two  
Climb up here, Joe, we'll soon be flying  
Back to the ranks so blue.  
Did you feel, Joe, all a-tremble  
Perhaps it's the battle's noise  
But I think it's that I remember  
When we were two little boys_.
> 
> THE END
> 
> [1] Heavyarm's stats are obtained from the Endless Waltz Heavyarms model. I forgot its exact name ^^;;; I stole it from my little brother. But this doesn't necessarily mean this story occurred during the Endless Waltz. I've also added little bits from Battletech, like how heated up a mech can get when used. Just thought it might make everything sound a little more plausible but if I did it all wrong... *sigh*
> 
> [2] Another Battletech reference. I suppose its safe to say that if they had the technology to make Gundams, they should have powered armor suits for the infantry as well, at least in my opinion.
> 
> LRM = long range missiles
> 
> Note: The lyrics for this song may be incorrect since I listened to the song and wrote down what I thought I heard. This fic cannot, in any way, happen in the real GW universe ^_^;;  
© 1999 Rennuian, [http://vidrio-negro.net/home][1]

   [1]: http://vidrio-negro.net/home



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